


Love, Love, Love

by QueenOfSpades



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:40:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfSpades/pseuds/QueenOfSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Moriarty slipped up, he made a mistake. because the one person he thought didn't matter at all to me; was the one person that mattered the most."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, Love, Love

“Molly, please don’t feel the need to make conversation; it’s really not your area,” he remarked without looking up from the microscope. Molly remained standing off to his left, rubbing her hands together hard enough to bruise.

“You look sad. When you think he can’t see you,” she said softly. “Are you okay? Don’t just say you are because I know what that means—looking sad when you think no one can see you.” He lifted his head, slowly letting his gaze drift to hers.

“You can see me,” he said in response, watching her carefully for a moment longer before looking back into the microscope.

“I don’t count,” Molly murmured, “What I’m trying to say is, if there’s anything I can do—anything you need, anything at all—you can have me. No, I just mean. I mean, if there’s anything you need, it’s fine.”

“What could I need from you?” he asked absently. Something in his voice—perhaps he didn't notice it because it was a natural habit for him, this arrogance she seemed to be picking up on—rubbed against her. She couldn't put a finger on it, but if she had to, she would have chalked it up as him thinking he had no need of her,whatsoever.

“Nothing, I don’t know,” she said resignedly. “You could probably say thank you, actually.” She fidgeted, blinking a few times before smoothing her hand through her side-parted ponytail. She thought of the side-part, how the self-proclaimed high-functioning sociopath had complimented—imagine that, a compliment from Sherlock Holmes—her on it.   
Within, she smiled; it had made her happy. To attribute her happiness to the mere fact that he’d noticed her seemed superficial to her, almost to an embarrassing point. He noticed everything; how did that make her any more special? No, she was happy that it had been enough to get his attention in such a manner that he paused and thought about her. If only just long enough to notice that it “suited her better that way.”She missed the moments like that. It was such a contrast to others when as she’d put it, he always said such horrible things every time. But did that necessarily make him a bad person? Compared to Moriarty, she didn't think so. 

“Thank you.” The one sound she made came out as a halted sigh, something like a resigned one at that. It was followed by the soft rustle and flap of her coat as she smoothed the white fabric down and promptly left him on his own in the lab.

“Molly?”

He had been too engrossed in the present activity to have heard her leave, which left wondering why she hadn't responded. The lack of response to his question presented him with two scenarios: she was either ignoring him or she had left the room. He swiftly ruled out the former, remembering a slightly similar interaction with John on their last case.”I don’t have friends,” he’d said tightly. Out of his peripheral vision, he had seen John clenching his fits and moving about just the way Molly had some time ago. “Right. Wonder why,” John had muttered under his breath before he too left.

So she’d left.

He looked up from the microscope, unable to help the sinking feeling in his chest that came with the sight of the dark, empty laboratory. He closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands before pulling them down his face and steepling them under his chin. He hadn't meant to put her off. Come to think of it, he never really intended to put anyone off. Except perhaps, maybe Anderson and Donovan. Unfortunately, Molly had been put off by his response. Damn him for the complexity of human emotions. With a tired sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb and arose from his seat, setting his work aside for the moment. He’d been around John long enough to know that he ought to at least try to fix things like this when he seemed to be at fault for breaking them.


End file.
